


Running Through My Mind

by Fe3hSins (Tieru)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Angry Kissing, Dream Sex, M/M, Riding, Sylvain Jose Gautier (mentioned) - Freeform, ch 3: power bottom ferdinand, ch 4: bottom hubert, light dom /sub undertones, no beta we die like Glenn, sensual massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tieru/pseuds/Fe3hSins
Summary: Hubert and Edelgard have just moved in together as roommates in a new suburb. Everything is going smoothly, except for one issue: that stupid neighbor that won't stop singing during his morning run every day at 4:15 in the morning. After four consecutive nights of restless sleep for Edelgard, Hubert decides he needs to confront the man and end this, once and for all.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir & Dorothea Arnault, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 78
Kudos: 199





	1. When the Cock Crows

“Hubert, this needs to stop.”

Hubert leans back in his desk chair, looking to the girl standing in his door frame. Her figure glows faintly blue from the screen of his laptop, the only source of light in the dark office. She looks tired, more tired than usual, her soft brown hair hastily tied back to reveal heavy lavender eyes with even heavier bags beneath them. He doesn’t need to ask for clarification. After four days straight, Huber doesn’t doubt everyone in their little suburb has been dealing with the same affliction since they moved in. 

“If his schedule is as consistent as it has been, he should be coming by in the hour. I’ll see to it he never bothers you again, Miss Edelgard.” He nods solemnly. 

Edelgard frowns, shifting in the doorway. “I wish you would leave the ‘Miss’ behind, now that we live together, but alright. Please let me know if you can get through to him.” With that, she pulls her coverup tighter around herself and leaves Hubert alone to plan. 

Ever since the two left the care of Miss Edelgard’s father less than a month ago, Hubert has discovered several things about living outside the luxury of a CEO’s mansion. He never was one for the foppish lifestyle of the social elite, so many of the changes have been welcome. The smaller kitchen, filled with food of entirely their own making, has a level of intimacy and fondness to it unmatched by the large culinary staff of the old mansion. His and Edelgard’s rooms are nestled mere steps away from one another, a far cry from the entire wings of the building keeping them separated before. Changes such as these leave Hubert with sense of protectiveness over the new life the two of them have built, even for just a month. So, when a threat comes along to endanger this newly fostered space, Hubert feels an urgency to remove those threats as swiftly and efficiently as possible. 

The current and most aggravating threat comes in the form of a neighbor. From his office window, Hubert can spot his long, red-gold hair as he jogs down their street at exactly 4:15 every morning. Normally this wouldn’t cause Hubert to think twice, especially as the late hours working at his desk wrap up. This neighbor, however, is not satisfied to keep his morning routine to himself. No, this neighbor is loud, obscenely so, wailing some sort of nonsense he likely believes passes as singing as he runs past their home every morning at exactly 4:15. Hubert remembers. The first day felt like a minor inconvenience, a sudden yet brief blast of an oldie’s song. It broke Hubert’s thought mid-sentence, but within minutes he was back to work. The country tune the next day took longer to get out of Hubert’s head, but he could still manage. 

By the third day, though, Hubert noticed the effects weighing on Edelgard as well. It impedes on Miss Edelgard’s sleep, something already precious, given her tendency to wander around at late hours, burdened by the stress of soon inheriting her father’s empire. Her coordination slows, tiredness dragging her limbs in heavy motions. The evening before, she dropped a mug just as Hubert handed it to her, coffee and ceramic littering the floor. She apologized profusely, promising to clean it up, but as she leaned down, vertigo took over, leaving her clinging to the counter, unsteady. Hubert shooed her away to her room, taking over cleaning duties himself, and only hoped sleep could grace her this night. If their conversation today was any indication, Hubert knows that hope is fruitless. Only action can help now. 

It is for this reason Hubert treats the issue at hand with such urgency. As soon as his laptop’s clock signals 4:00, he stops typing and folds the screen down with a click. The room envelopes in darkness, the soft coo of morning doves outside the only break to the silence. Hubert sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He doesn’t have much time to prepare before the jogger arrives. 

Going through a mental list, Hubert crosses out all improbable solutions first. He could write a complaint to the local HOA, but given their move barely a month in, he knows their words probably weigh very little in the politics of the neighborhood. Besides, writing a letter requires any faith in bureaucracy, which Hubert certainly does not have, and in a best-case scenario could take weeks before showing any effective results. Poisoning would be much quicker, but the idea feels medieval, the kind of machinations too dire for the current matter. He leaves a pin in it though, just in case. That leaves only one option, painful as it is: direct confrontation. 

He shudders at the thought. No matter. If it is for Miss Edelgard, Hubert will do anything. 

Hubert steps out of his room, locking it behind himself, and heads towards the entryway. He plays back to himself a series of possible scripts before scrapping them all in a huff. Perhaps brutal honesty will favor him today, and if not that, a desperate plea, or even a well-placed threat. Regardless, improving his words seems a better approach than an overly practiced speech. He checks his watch, 4:12. Any time now. 

Distantly, the beginning notes of a top 40 song grow louder. Hubert sets his shoulders, swings the door open, and comes face to face with what can only be defined as a sun god. Fiery locks tousled from running, freckled, tan skin glistening in the early rays of sunlight, beads of sweat trailing down his neck to… oh. The man’s chest practically jiggles from the tight confines of his low-neck tee, the round curve sloping steeply into a thin waist and back to wide hips. His biceps and thighs show no mercy through short sleeves and even shorter shorts. None of this could be seen from Hubert’s window, which now feels like a mockery of the man before him. Hubert mentally slaps himself back to reality and spares himself what little shame he has left to look the man in the eyes. And oh, do those eyes look back. They crease at the corners, smile spreading across his face. A smile so radiant, Hubert takes a moment to even realize it’s directed at him. 

“Good morning, neighbor!” the man waves to Hubert, returning an earbud he has apparently removed in the moments Hubert spent ogling him like an imbecile. Before he can return the wave, the man already passes, giving Hubert a view just as, if not more, distracting as he prances away. Those bright orange curls bounce back and forth, swinging to the rhythm of his jog. The last thing he notices, can hardly take his eyes off, is that tight round ass, teasing him as it recedes into the distance, leaving only the sound of that same infuriating top 40 song as a reminder of what he completely failed to accomplish. It takes Hubert a moment for the events to fully register and the shame to hit full force, but when it does, Hubert is already hiding in his bedroom, hands barely holding him up against the locked door. 

Tomorrow. He shall address the threat tomorrow.


	2. Meet-Cute

Ferdinand steps out of the shower, just in time to pick up his phone by the second ring. He sets it to speaker, resting it on the counter. 

“Good morning Dorothea! To what do I owe this call to?” he beams in front of the mirror, wiping away steam to reveal his misty reflection. A red bump marks his nose with oncoming acne. Ferdinand frowns, dabbing cream on the bump. Must be from stress, with the entrance exam soon approaching-

“Ferdie? Are you there?”

“Oh!” Ferdinand startles away from the mirror. “I am sorry Dorothea, could you repeat that one more time?”

Dorothea sighs from the other end of the line. “Really, Ferdie, way to make a girl feel special,” she says, a gentle teasing note to her voice. “As I was saying, the date with Mr. Sexy Redhead-- the other Sexy Redhead-- was a bust. Couldn’t stop talking about girls wanting him for his money or fame or whatever. You ask me, he probably could get any girl he wants with that smile alone, but when he starts talking… Let’s just say there won’t be a second date any time soon. Or ever, if he keeps texting me like this.”

“Dorothea…” Ferdinand picks up his phone, moving to the bedroom. He drops the towel and phone on his bed, his skin prickling from the sudden chill, and walks into his closet to grab his running gear. “You really need to be pickier with who you go out with.”

“Me?” Dorothea scoffs. “You’re the one who spreads his legs for just about anyone who smiles at him!” 

Ferdinand recoils. His shoes fall from his grip and bounce off his toes onto the ground. “W-what? I do not!”

“Please, what about the boy you met at the park last March? How long did that one last?”

“But—"

“What about the girl from the charity drive a month ago? Still talk to her?”

“Well—” 

“Or the guy at the coffee shop?”

“That one was very sweet, alright?” Ferdinand shoves his foot into the first shoe, huffing. 

“It’s his job to be sweet, Ferdie. Those are two very different things.” Dorothea says.

“I… I see your point, Dorothea.” Ferdinand steps in front of the wall length mirror, more insecure than before. The fit of the top, the pattern on his shorts, maybe his hair is the problem… He really does need to get better at this. Pulling his hair back into a ponytail, he follows a strand of hair down to the tip. It’s split and frayed, a clear sign he needs to get it trimmed. Perhaps if he considered his presentation more, past the bare exercise he does now, they would… what? Stay? Not leave him on read after a one night stand? The idea sounds foolish, and it likely is, yet the thought lingers. 

“I’m just saying, Ferdie, you have no room to judge me.” She continues before Ferdinand has time to protest, “I know, you ‘did not mean it that way’ or whatever, it’s just, you know how hard it is out there. Sometimes a girl can’t afford to be picky. But that’s not important right now. What about you? Anyone got your attention recently?” 

“Well…” Ferdinand cannot resist the smile creeping into his voice. “There is this man I met recently, in that suburb across from mine. He has come out to greet me every morning this week! And his eyes… Dorothea, you should see the way he looks at me. He might be… the one.” 

There is a long pause on the other end. Ferdinand nervously steps back in for in the silence. 

“… Well? What do you think?” Ferdinand pleads. “Please do not keep me waiting any longer.”

Dorothea signs again. It seems to be a trend today. “Oh, Ferdie, my sweet, sexy fool. He’s not ‘the one.’”

“He could be!”

“But you don’t know that. You said its been a week, right?” Dorothea asks.

“Yes?” 

“Have you even spoken? Or did he just ogle you as you ran by?” 

“It is a meet-cute in the making, Dorothea!” Ferdinand dodges the question with debatable grace. 

“Right, well tell me if this ‘meet cute’ of yours actually ends in a conversation.” Dorothea’s tone presses on Ferdinand’s resolve, but he refuses to back down.

“Fine, I will!” Ferdinand gathers his water bottle, heading to the door. “And it shall be the best meet-cute to ever happen! Good day, Dorothea, please give Lorenz my regards! Thank you!” he huffs, not one to end things on a sour note, but frustrated all the same. He ends the call, pockets his phone, and heads out to begin his morning routine. 

At 4:14, Ferdinand’s route takes him back to the strange new man’s house. Ferdinand has a sappier song than usual blasting in his ear buds, pumping him up for the inevitable conversation. He reaches the chorus right as he spots the man and stops singing. This time, Ferdinand slows his jog to a stop on the sidewalk right in front of him. Dorothea might think this man isn’t “the one,” but that has never stopped Ferdinand before, and definitely won’t today. He takes a deep breath, stepping closer. 

“Good morning, neighbor! I am Ferdinand von Aegir.” He gives the man his brightest smiling, holding his hand out. The man steps back, gripping tighter onto his morning newspaper. He looks tired, weary mint eyes darkened by deep purple bags, curly black hair and matching black pajamas equally tousled. Ferdinand can’t help but find the image endearing, the thought of waking up next to him, bed hair still pointed every direction, tired mouth sliding into a shy smile in the first rays of morning light. The image suits him. 

The man stares at Ferdinand, hand still outreached, for a moment before finally shaking it.

“Hubert von Vestra,” Hubert replies, and Ferdinand is caught by just how intimate his voice is. The quiet calmness hides a twinge of danger that pulls Ferdinand further into his grasp, like a fly caught in his web. He blushes, remembering to take his hand back. The smile Hubert wears doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Well Hubert, it is a pleasure meeting you.” Ferdinand takes a deep breath. “I was wondering…”

“Actually—” Hubert starts.

“Well, there’s this coffee shop nearby,”

“Wait, please—”

“I am not usually one for coffee, but—”

“Stop talking!” Hubert growls. Ferdinand stands in the silence, unnerved. 

“I have been trying to say this for several days now,” Hubert wrings the newspaper in his hands, nearly tearing it in half. “Your infernal singing each morning disturbs me, and more importantly my roommate. So, if you could please…”

Ferdinand does not listen to the rest of it. Shame courses through his blood, pounding into his ears. This isn’t a meet-cute at all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to update at least once a week! So far the next chapter is already fully written so I might post it this weekend, but it depends on how far I get in chapter 4 first, since i want to make sure i pad out my queue at least a little bit
> 
> but hey, horny comes next chapter!!


	3. Raise Your Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first signs of horny!!  
> please be gentle as i have never written smut before haha;;

Copper locks cascade like a curtain around Hubert’s body, lighting up his senses with every gentle touch of hair. Bright amber eyes and a brighter smile shine through the shadow cast across his face. Ferdinand smirks, triumphant, over Hubert’s pinned form, and Hubert is too awestruck to consider protesting. 

“I know you want me, Hubert,” Ferdinand teases into his ear, letting his teeth graze the shell and down his neck. Hubert’s back arches into the touch. He longs to hold this infuriatingly beautiful man, but his wrists are firmly wrapped in one of Ferdinand’s hands. Hubert struggles against the grip, making Ferdinand laugh. 

“Ah-ah, you know the rules.” Ferdinand chides. He wags his finger and Hubert can’t help but roll his eyes. Hubert doesn’t know the rules, not really, but he isn’t about to reveal that and have this all end, so he stays silent. 

“There we go Hubert, that’s better.” Ferdinand leans back onto his thighs, straddling Hubert’s waist. He slides back, ass pressing against the topside of Hubert’s embarrassingly hard cock. Hubert gasps at the contact, clenching his legs to resist the urge to thrust upwards. Ferdinand’s ass presses firmer this time, grinding into Hubert’s pelvis as he longs for closer contact. Once, twice, he keeps grinding onto Hubert, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without even touching him, but as soon as it had started, it is over, Ferdinand sitting back up on his knees. 

He leans into Hubert’s ear again, voice breathy: “Do you really think you can handle me? That this—” he reaches for Hubert’s cock, giving the shaft a gentle tug for emphasis, “—will be enough to satisfy me?” 

Hubert nods, not trusting his words. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Ferdinand squeezes Hubert’s cock, forcing out a moan. 

“Y-yes,” Hubert strings together, “Use me, please…”

“Good.” Ferdinand smiles and kisses his cheek. “Because I’ve already prepared myself.” 

Before Hubert can catch up, Ferdinand is sinking onto him, tight and warm. It takes everything in Hubert not to come right then, but he doesn’t want this to end. Ferdinand, sexy, insufferable neighbor Ferdinand, is fully seated on him, that same arrogant smile beaming on his too-radiant face. He takes in a deep breath, giving Hubert time to adjust.

“Well then, shall we begin?”

Hubert jolts awake, sitting up at his desk. The groggy haze of restless sleep still weighs on him. He rubs his eyes, careful of the deep imprinted marks of his keyboard across his cheek. He doesn’t have time to worry about that now, not with more pressing matters still throbbing in his boxers. Hubert sighs, checking the clock on his laptop. 4:03. He’ll have to make it quick. 

Sliding his hand past the elastic waistband, Hubert very pointedly does not think of Ferdinand as he begins to touch himself. Not his coy tongue, teasing the tip of Hubert’s cock, and definitely not his sparkling smile as Hubert comes in record time, imaginary spend covering Ferdinand’s face. He doesn’t picture himself drawing a finger across that freckled nose, wiping a trail of cum and letting Ferdinand lick it off with that same disgusting enthusiasm. 

Absolutely none of that happens, so the shame Hubert feels as he wipes his messing fingers off on a napkin is purely hypothetical. In reality, the first notes of an oldie’s song already stream through his window. Hubert checks his laptop again, clarifying that it still is only 4:06, before checking out the window. Still no sign of Ferdinand. If he isn’t closer, he must be…

Hubert refuses to finish that thought just yet, pulling on his shoes and heading towards the front door. To think, after a simple confrontation, his neighbor could be petty enough to sing louder than before. It leaves Hubert on edge, swinging the front door open and storming to the sidewalk. By the time Ferdinand reaches him, Hubert must force himself to unclench his jaw to speak. He watches Ferdinand slow to a stop on the sidewalk next to him. 

“You’re much louder than usual today,” Hubert grits out, trying not to look at the sweat beading down Ferdinand’s exposed chest. He has apparently chosen to omit a shirt entirely today, and if his wicked smile is anything to go by, it is intended to mess with Hubert as much as the singing. 

“Thank you for noticing,” Ferdinand smiles. “I have been practicing—”

“Please.” Hubert holds up a hand. “Find some other way to entertain yourself that doesn’t disturb half the neighborhood.”

Ferdinand huffs, crossing his arms. “Well, unless you are offering to run with me—”

“Alright.”

“—Then I don’t see—” Ferdinand stumbles. “Wait, ‘alright,’ as in you will join me?” he stares, wide eyed.

Hubert’s expression matches Ferdinand’s, unsure what came over him. He pauses, taking a breath, hoping to clear up the confusion. 

“I meant what I said, I will join you,” Hubert continues, completely unlike what he planned to say. Before he can take it back, a smile spreads across Ferdinand’s face so wide Hubert can’t bring himself to correct it. 

“Really? Then I shall grab you some clothes! Please wait right here.”

“No need, these will suit me fine,” Hubert gestures to his sweats and casual sneakers.

Ferdinand’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I don’t see how it will make much difference anyways,” Hubert rolls his shoulders, letting out some of the tension. “If this is what it takes to keep you quiet, I accept.”

“Fine then. At least let us warm up with a walk first so you do not pull anything,” Ferdinand steps to the side to give Hubert room on the pavement next to him. They walk in silence, Hubert keeping his eyes forward to ignore the obvious stare Ferdinand directs at him. 

“I still do not understand why my singing is such an issue for you,” Ferdinand breaks the silence a block in. “I have been told by many friends that I am quite the singer.” 

“It is not the skill that is the issue here, but the location. Though, I suppose that kind of insight requires more self-awareness than you possess,” Hubert chuckles. 

Ferdinand pouts at him and picks up into a light jog. “I may look like a simpleton to you, but I will have you know I am currently on my way into law school.”

“Through the hard work of Daddy’s money, I’m sure,” Hubert smiles at Ferdinand, who picks up the pace again. 

“No, actually, I have not seen a dime from my father. Everything I have made for myself has been on my own.” 

Hubert breathes heavily. It’s been a while since he last ran. The thought feels embarrassingly obvious next to Ferdinand, who hardly seems affected. He opens his mouth to reply when his foot catches on his sweatpants’ leg and he tumbles face first into the concrete.

“Hubert!” Ferdinand gasps. He squats down to help him, but Hubert swats his hand away. He stands up, leaning on the fence for support. Ferdinand hovers close around him, face still twisted with concern. 

“Please, Hubert, look at me,” Ferdinand reaches up to touch Hubert’s face. His fingers are gentle, but the contact still stings. “Your lip, it is bleeding.” 

“I can take care of it myself when I get home,” Hubert scoffs, looking away. He needs and out, now, away from this man’s piercing stare. Ferdinand refuses to budge. His fingers grip Hubert’s chin, forcing his face towards Ferdinand. Those eyes, bright as fire and wide with concern, stare into Hubert. He squirms under the attention. His lips look so soft this close to Hubert, caught between his teeth with worry. How easy it would be to lean in, to bite that lower lip instead…

Before Hubert can process what they’re doing, their lips collide, rough and messy. Those fingers on his chin slide to cup Hubert’s jaw, inviting Hubert in. Their lips part, and Hubert can feel the warmth radiating from Ferdinand’s mouth as he presses in deeper. The taste of iron mixes with salt, the blood from his lip blending in with spit in a way Hubert doesn’t want to linger on too much. His hands wander up Ferdinand’s chest, feeling the tight muscle shift beneath his fingers. Hubert slides his hands into Ferdinand’s hair, the feel of each strand even softer than Hubert could have imagined. He tugs, soft at first, then harder, drawing out a moan from Ferdinand.

The sound of Ferdinand’s voice is enough to startle Hubert back to reality. Tugging harder this time, he pulls Ferdinand away from himself. Hubert doesn’t wait for a response, simply turns on his heel back towards his home, staunching ignoring Ferdinand’s stammers of confusion behind him. 

The threat has gotten so much worse, and Hubert has no idea how to fix it now.


	4. Slippery Slope

Ferdinand sighs, stabbing his salad with a fork. From the other side of the café table, Dorothea and Lorenz give each other a look. Lorenz tilts his head sharply towards Ferdinand and raises his eyebrows. His eyes practically bulge as he tries to tell Dorothea something without speaking. He was never very good with subtlety, Ferdinand notes. Eventually Dorothea gives in and asks. 

“What’s wrong Ferdie? Salad not sitting well?”

Ferdinand jumps at the opportunity to spill. “It’s that blasted man!” He sets his fork down and crosses his arms. “How one person can be so… so… unlikable, is beyond me!” 

Dorothea smiles. “I take it ‘the One’ wasn’t the man you dreamed he’d be?” 

Ferdinand drops his head onto the table, hair spilling around him. He hears the metallic scrape of Lorenz’s chair, followed by the soft feeling of fingers brushing through his hair. It feels pleasant, Lorenz’s fingers carding through his locks in a gentle rhythm. 

“You were right, Dorothea. I should not have jumped in so soon, before even talking to him,” he mutters through his hair. A strand falls into his mouth and sputters it out. “It’s just that, it was so clear he desired me, and after that kiss I know I did not simply imagine it, but when he pushed me away… How can one man give so many conflicting signals?” 

Lorenz stops his petting. “Wait, did you say you kissed?”

Ferdinand’s head shoots up again, face redder than his hair. “What? No!” 

“No, I heard it too,” Dorothea leans forward, elbows on the table. Her eyes sparkle with something Ferdinand is not sure he likes. “You kissed him, now tell!” 

“I’m afraid there is not much to say,” Ferdinand leans back in his chair as Lorenz goes back to stroking his hair. “He was just… alright? I am certain he’s had very little experience in the past, but the energy was there. I could tell he wanted me, and I him, yet the next moment he ran off!”

“Aw, he’s shy,” Lorenz teases. 

“Maybe, or he’s just a coward,” Dorothea laughs. “Still, you gave it a shot. Not a shot I would have taken, mind you, but not bad. Hey, maybe I can try setting you up with my friend’s roommate,” she smiles. Ferdinand tries to ignore the pity in her tone. 

“I don’t know, Dorothea,” Ferdinand sighs. “I think I may need to take a break from dating.” 

-*-

Ferdinand sets out on his run, Hubert right beside him. The sun barely peaks over the horizon, gentle rays sparkling across Hubert’s exposed skin. He’s finally wearing the clothes Ferdinand gave him: a black, breathable tank top with matching shorts, a deep maroon panel of fabric down each side trimmed in bright red piping. Ferdinand prides himself in the choice. It shows off Hubert’s body well, much better than the bulky hoodie and loose sweatpants he usually greets Ferdinand in every morning. In the new tank, Hubert’s arms are almost cute. The awkward lankiness balances with the hint of muscle each time he moves his arms back and forth. Hubert catches him staring and chuckles, voice breathy from running.

“Like what you see?” he teases, flexing his arm to display very little muscle. 

“Yes, I do,” Ferdinand says, catching Hubert by surprise with his sincerity. Hubert drops his arm, face red, and continues running. The path transitions from cement to rock as they reach the beginning of the park. 

“I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” Ferdinand breaks the silence. 

Hubert looks back at him, a gentle smile on his face. “No, I—”

In that moment, Huber’s shoe catches on a rock and he tumbles. Ferdinand reaches out to help, only to be pulled down on top of Hubert. They land in a field of flowers, perfume drifting up between them. Petals litter through Hubert’s hair, bright spots of pink, blue, and red speckled across black curls. Ferdinand reaches down, brushing Hubert’s bangs out of his eyes. Looking at them clearly, they’re beautiful, a bright pale green against dark lashes. Ferdinand’s fingers trace the contour of Hubert’s face, across his cheek, cupping his jaw. He smiles at the shared moment, tender feelings welling up inside himself. 

He feels Hubert’s legs as they snake their way around Ferdinand’s hips, ankles locking together. Nothing in Hubert’s expression acknowledges how forward his lower half is acting. He blinks up at Ferdinand, who breaks eye contact at the feeling of something already half hard grinding into him.

“You scoundrel,” Ferdinand breathes. He pulls his hand away from Hubert’s face to hold his hips still. “Any more of this and I will not be able to control myself.”

Hubert’s chin lifts as his eyes narrow, dropping the naïve façade. “Why, is that a threat, or a promise?” He smiles, lifting his hips again to meet Ferdinand’s. Hubert’s hand slithers between them, pulling the waistband of his shorts down with more finesse than Ferdinand would think possible, before grabbing onto Ferdinand’s hand. He guides it away from his hip and towards his exposed hole.

“Touch me, please,” Hubert whispers into Ferdinand’s ear, the same intimate voice from when they first met now overflowing with desire. Ferdinand cannot help but oblige. The first finger slips in with ease, his rim already wet with lube. A second, then third finger slip in and stretch him. Hubert moans softly, biting onto his hand to muffle the sound. Ferdinand pulls Hubert’s hand down and out of the way, twining their fingers together in a tight embrace. 

“Please, I would like to hear you,” he smiles, and thrusts his fingers in, finding just the right spot. This time Hubert’s moan goes unimpeded, ringing in Ferdinand’s ears. He could listen to that sound forever, if Hubert would let him. He thrusts again, as far as he can, imagining the way he would feel around his dick. The thought draws a low groan from deep inside Ferdinand. He pauses for a breath. 

Hubert’s ankles shift around his waist, drawing Ferdinand’s attention back to him. “Go ahead, cum for me,” his smile lures Ferdinand in, but he shakes his head.

“No, not yet. I want to stay like this, with you,” Ferdinand says, and thrusts his fingers once again.

When Ferdinand wakes up, alone in his bed, it takes a moment to realize none of it had happened. He and Hubert are hardly on speaking terms, let alone flirty… And a field of flowers, really? Ferdinand combs his fingers through his hair, trying to hide his embarrassment. 

He checks his clock, almost time to get up, and decides to go ahead and get started early. By the time he’s dressed and out the door, it is barely 3:40 AM. Ferdinand shakes his head, grogginess still weighing on him. He starts walking down the normal path, but stops a block in. The thought of meeting Hubert now, after that kiss, or worse, that dream, horrifies him too much to consider. Best to go a different way and avoid the situation, at least for now. Ferdinand ignores Dorothea’s voice in his head, calling Hubert a coward for running away. Today is not the time, not while his head still aches from waking up poorly. He turns, heading towards the park instead. It may remind him of the dream, but at least he can face that alone. 

It’s still dark by the time pavement turns to rock. What little sun peaks over the horizon is quickly blocked by all the trees surrounding the path. For once, Ferdinand cannot bring himself to sing on his run. The minute he starts, visions of Hubert pinned beneath him, hair littered with petals, fills his head. Yes, silence seems better for now. 

He continues in the dark, mind scattered. He hardly notices the stray rock on the path until his foot catches on it. His ankle twists, shooting pain up his leg, and he falls down the slope into the trees below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's not many good words for "butt hole" so I tried my best asldkfhsdf 
> 
> I wanted the dream sequence to really lean into Ferdie's personal tastes, so Hubert isn't the most in character, since Ferdie doesn't know him that well (plus he's a sap at heart what can i say)
> 
> Also, don't worry Ferdie will be fine, this is a light hearted horny story after all, just needs to have some drama to spice up their lives hehe


	5. Soothe the Ache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this one took a bit longer than I was hoping. It ended up getting split in two too, so on the bright side that likely means longer porn scene next chapter! Pray for me to get through this hhh

Its been three days since Hubert last saw Ferdinand run past his window. Hubert stands near the glass, crossing and uncrossing his arms, unsure what to do with the time. He’s unsure about a lot of things. Did he mess things up with Ferdinand? Is that really something he cares about now? The problem, Ferdinand’s daily singing, has theoretically solved itself. Is that not what he wanted all this time? 

Hubert spends so much time turning these thoughts over in his head, he doesn’t notice Edelgard in his doorway until she announces herself with a knock. The sound jars him out of the cycle of thoughts running back and forth through his head. 

“You’re up earlier than I expected, Miss Edelgard,” Hubert says. He turns to face Edelgard, but his eyes keep wandering back to the window, drawn to any sign of movement. 

“Ah, yes, well…” Edelgard blushes. The bright shock of red looks foreign on her face, but not unwelcome. “I should have warned you sooner, but I suppose now is better than never. I have a… friend over” she takes a deep breath, looking him in the eyes. They stand in the silent, uncharted territory. 

“Is it okay for me to come in now?” a sing-song voice comes from the hallway. Edelgard raises her brow to Hubert, who nods, before turning to the secret guest. A brunette woman about Edelgard’s age comes out. Her shirt is one of Edelgard’s, a present from a coworker. It hugs her curvier frame, coming just shy of her lacy black underwear. The portrait they paint together sends a flush of embarrassment across Hubert’s face to rival Edelgard’s. 

The woman disregards the tension in the room. She wraps her arms around Edelgard’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. 

“So, this is the roommate Edie has told me so much about?” she smiles. “I’m Dorothea, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hubert sends Edelgard a look, but Edelgard seems suddenly too fascinated with the loose bow in her hair to notice his stare. He redirects to Dorothea, giving her a smile. 

“Hubert von Vestra,” he holds a hand out to her, and she takes it. After a shake, her hand retreats to Edelgard’s waist. Hubert turns back to the window. 

“Hubert, is everything alright?” Edelgard asks. He flushes at the attention. 

“Yes, of course.” He nods to her. 

“Is it the runner again? I thought the issue had already been dealt with.”

“Not entirely, I’m afraid,” Hubert sighs, closing the blinds. “He hasn’t been singing, as you’ve noticed, but that doesn’t seem to be all. I haven’t seen him in three days now. Perhaps he changed routes, but…”

“Wait, did you say what his name was?” Dorothea asks. 

“Ferdinand, why?”

Dorothea covers her mouth, doing her best to smother the obvious smile. “Oh, I get it now! You’re ‘the One!’” her eyes sparkle. 

“The what?” Hubert scrunches his nose at the name. 

“Never mind that. Here, I have Ferdie’s address, you should pay him a visit!” She whips her phone out, typing with one thumb. 

“Are you sure giving his address to a stranger is wise?” Hubert stares at Dorothea’s phone as she tosses it to him. One the screen is the contact for someone he assumes must be Ferdinand. Where a name should be is a single bee emoji.

“Trust me, if its you, I know he won’t mind,” Dorothea wiggles her eyebrows. Hubert pulls out his phone and transfers the address to his contacts, then hands the phone back to Dorothea. She smiles as he passes her to exit the room. 

“I’ll let him know he’s got a guest!” she calls to him as he continues down the hallway. “Oh, and nice shoes! Very athleisure! Best of luck Hubie!” 

Hubert flushes deeper and slams the door behind him to muffle the laughter echoing down the hall. 

-x-

By the time Hubert reaches Ferdinand’s apartment, he’s had just enough time to realize how terrible this idea is. He’s only had a handful of conversations with the man, each one ending in disaster. What could possibly make Ferdinand excited to see him now? Still Dorothea’s voice, so sure he won’t mind, pushes him to take the elevator, walk down the hall, and knock on his door before he has another chance to rethink it. 

“Sorry, just one second!” Ferdinand shouts from beyond the door. There’s a series of clicks and door swings open. His hair is the first thing Hubert notices, disheveled and fluffy locks not in their usual ponytail. His loose tee slides down his shoulder, revealing a collarbone Hubert wishes he hadn’t already imagined so many times before. 

“How may I—Hubert?” Ferdinand stares at him, wide eyed, before slamming the door. 

“I should leave you be,” Hubert calls uncomfortably to the door. There’s quiet shuffling and a muffled curse as the only response. Hubert turns to leave when the door opens again.

“No, please stay,” Ferdinand breathes out. His hair is tied in a half hazard bun, and a large university sweater covers his shirt. “Dorothea did not tell me who was coming, I would have prepared tea. Please, come in.”

Hubert stands at the door for a moment, thinking the offer over, and nods. “It’s alright, I’m more of a coffee man myself.” Ferdinand holds the door open wider and Hubert steps through, careful not to bump into him. He hears the same series of clicks as Ferdinand locks the door again. 

The living room surprises Hubert in its patchwork style. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to each piece of furniture, all various materials, styles and qualities. The only commonality is the litter cluttering each piece, books, papers, and empty tea mugs scattered across every open surface. 

“Apologies for the mess,” Ferdinand flushes, shuffling stacks of paper and picking up stray mugs. “I would say ‘it is not normal like this,’ but that would be a lie.” He heads to the kitchen, the handles of five mugs laces precariously between his fingers. Hubert follows behind, his footsteps silent beneath the soft clink of ceramic. Ferdinand sets the mugs in the sink and turns to Hubert.

“So, what brings you—ah…” Ferdinand winces, gripping the counter for support. After a beat he smiles at Hubert as if nothing happened. “What brings you here today?”

Hubert looks down at Ferdinand’s legs. He’s put all his weight on his left, while his right barely touches the floor. His ankle is wrapped in a bandage and clipped tight. 

“Are you alright?” Hubert asks. He steps towards Ferdinand but stops short, returning to his spot. “I haven’t seen or heard you in several days now. I had assumed you chose another route, but perhaps you hurt yourself?” 

Ferdinand blushes deeper, ducking his head. “Yes, well, I was a fool and did not look where I was going. I sprained this,” he gestures to his right ankle, “from a nasty fall in the park. Still, that does not answer why you are here now.” He looks back up at Hubert, his bright, prying eyes hard to resist.

“I…” Hubert takes a breath. “I missed you, I suppose. When your friend told me you would like to see me, I let my feelings get the better of me. Really, I shouldn’t be here,” Hubert looks to the exit, but stops at a tug on his sleeve. Looking back, Ferdinand is smiling, brighter than Hubert has ever seen before.

“You missed me, truly?” light bubbles up in Ferdinand’s voice in a way that feels wrong directed at Hubert. It exposes him, the dark crevices of his heart flooded in white for the world to see. He curls away from Ferdinand, eyes closed to the intensity before him. 

“I missed you too,” Ferdinand’s words pull on Hubert, drawing him closer. He feels the hand on his sleeve slid up his arm, to his shoulder, neck, then chin. His thumb brushes along Hubert’s lips, and the memory of their kiss comes back, aching deep inside him. Ferdinand’s voice, warm and affectionate, calls to him. “Hubert, open your eyes, please.”

When Hubert does, he is greeted by drawn brows and worried lips. 

“I do not—ah…” Ferdinand winces again, drawing away from Hubert. He leans back onto the counter for support. 

“You’re hurt, you should at least sit down,” Hubert sighs. He reaches a hand out to Ferdinand. 

Ferdinand opens his mouth to protest, but after another wince, he relents. “Yes, alright,” he says, ignoring Hubert’s hand. “At least let me walk there myself,” he pushes past Hubert and rests himself on the nearest couch, propping his feet on the footrest. Hubert follows after him. He chooses the loveseat across Ferdinand, right at his feet. 

“I could help you with that,” Hubert offers, gesturing to the sprained ankle. “To make up for intruding so suddenly.” 

Ferdinand looks at Hubert with wide eyes. “No, I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“I insist,” he presses, leaning forward. “For someone who claims to know so much about proper exercise, you seem to be doing a poor job of taking care of your wounded self.” 

“I take care of myself just fine! I do not have the luxury of- of goofing off!”

“That isn’t what I said,” Hubert inches forward more and rests a hand on Ferdinand’s ankle. “I may not look it, but I at least have some experience with stressed muscles. You don’t get where Miss Edelgard and I are in the world without a bit of stress pain.” 

Ferdinand looks at Hubert, skepticism clear in his eyes. “Why—"

“Just… shut up and let me do this, alright?”

Ferdinand thinks it over before nodding. Hubert gingerly takes Ferdinand’s calf in one hand, his other resting on his foot. He rolls the ankle in slow circles, looking up every so often to gauge Ferdinand’s reaction. His face is tight, brows drawn and eyes closed.

“Let me know at any moment if this is too much.” 

Ferdinand nods, keeping his lips shut tight. After a moment, Hubert relents and gets back to work. He slides his hand away from Ferdinand’s foot and onto his calf. He presses into the muscles with deft fingers, finding and working out a particularly nasty knot. 

“A-ah…” Ferdinand lets out a soft whimper. He covers his mouth, flushed red down his neck. Hubert pauses to look at Ferdinand.

“Did that hurt? Because—” 

“No!” Ferdinand squeaks, shifting in his seat. “I am alright, please just give me a moment.”

Hubert’s eyes wander down Ferdinand’s face, past his sweater, to the small tent growing in his pants. 

Oh.


	6. Come Undone

Ferdinand stares in horror at the bulge in his shorts, begging it to go away. His already poor luck gets worse as he realizes Hubert sees it too. His piercing gaze sends a shock through Ferdinand’s body straight to his cock. Hoping to quell the situation he pulls his leg away from Hubert, crossing it over the other. It doesn’t do much to cover Ferdinand’s shame, but he’ll take it. 

“Please ignore me,” Ferdinand says, forcing the desperation in his voice down. “It will go away in time, I just need a breath.”

Hubert flushes but nods. “Very well,” he reclines into the loveseat, resting his hands on his knees. “You mentioned you were aiming for law school,” he leads. Ferdinand takes it with relief.

“You remembered that,” he smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The thought warms his chest. “My father is mayor of a small town south east of here. When he discovered I planned to become a lawyer, he looked more proud of me than ever before. That is, until he realized my dream was to dismantle nearly every policy he helped implement while in office.” 

Hubert chuckles darkly. “I have a feeling he wouldn’t enjoy meeting me, then.” After a pause he elaborates, “investigative journalist.” 

“Yes, well,” Ferdinand sighs. “We have not spoken in months regardless, so I doubt the opportunity would ever arise. Still, I am paying for everything on my own now, so his power over me is sentimental at most.” Ferdinand traces his finger along the spine of the case binder on his side table. 

Ferdinand lets out an empty laugh and turns back to Hubert. “I suppose if I ever need another mood killer, parental abandonment will do the trick just fine.”

The corner of Hubert’s mouth turns up. “Shall I continue then?”

“You shall,” Ferdinand flexes his leg out. He nudges Hubert’s thigh with his toes and smiles. Hubert swats his toes away but he still smiles, to Ferdinand’s relief.

When Hubert’s fingers press against Ferdinand’s ankle this time, there’s a softness to the contact. They nudge lightly at his foot and calf, rotating his ankle in smooth, slow circles. The pain aches duller this time, and after an encouraging nod from Ferdinand, Hubert’s fingers continue upward to the offending knot. Again the tenderness is less, but for safety Ferdinand cycles through talking points with each push and pull. 

“You mentioned you work in journalism?” Ferdinand steers the conversation and his thoughts away from the fingers deftly massaging their way up his leg.

“It wasn’t my first choice,” Hubert frowns, pressing his thumbs into the meat of Ferdinand’s calf, “but Miss Edelgard insisted I was ‘wasting my investigative talents’ by working as her bodyguard. It was the next best option to allow me to continue by her side.”

Hubert’s hands slide up past his knee to his thigh, and Ferdinand coughs nervously.

“I am not sure that is the best course of action,” Ferdinand flushes at the thought of only a few minutes ago. They pause briefly before the fingers press in deeper. It sends a tingle through Ferdinand’s system, up his spine and shoulders. He shivers, looking away in shame. “I do not know what has me acting like a teenager with his first magazine. I promise—“ 

“It’s alright,” Hubert cuts him off, pressing deeper into his thigh. “Unless you are in pain, any other… reactions are fine.” His fingers slide to Ferdinand’s inner thigh, closer to dangerous territory. He mutters something too softly for Ferdinand to hear. 

Ferdinand leans forward, shifting under Hubert’s touch. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Hubert swallows, but this time his gaze does not waver. “Any other reactions are fine, encouraged even.” His hans slides further, fingertips brushing the growth in Ferdinand’s pants.

“Oh! I see…” Ferdinand’s eyes flutter at the gentle contact, but he shakes the fog away. “I cannot, not as things are…” 

“If you’re sure, I won’t.” Hubert draws back. Ferdinand’s hand reaches out for his wrist.

“Wait!” the words spill out before Ferdinand has time to think. He lets go of Hubert, but the deed is done. He sighs, relenting. “I would be lying if I said I never thought about it—“

“The feeling is mutual.”

“—But I understand if—“ Ferdinand halts. “Wait. It is?”

“I had hoped I was being clear enough, but I can clarify further if you’d like,” Hubert brushes along Ferdinand’s waistband, teasing at the hem.

“Clear?” Ferdinand laughs.”I have never been more confused by one man! First I think you like me, the next moment I am being shouted at! And what about the kiss? Was there not something there? Why did you run away, Hubert?”

“I didn’t—“

“Do not lie to me,” Ferdinand persists. “You left me there, with no further word. What was I supposed to think?”

Hubert looks away, lip caught in his teeth.

“You do not have to apologize, I only wish to understand,” Ferdinand reaches for Hubert’s chin, guiding his gaze back to his.

Hubert pauses, eyes searching in thought. “At first I was upset. I still am, in a way. Your singing disturbs what little peace Miss Edelgard and I can find any given morning.” He sighs, “but I would be daft to not recognize an attractive man when I see one.”

Ferdinand tries to ignore the sting in his chest. “So that is it, then? You enjoy my body but hate who I am?” The smile on his face feels strained, defensive.

“Not ‘who you are,’ just how loud your singing is. And at first, yes, it may have been purely lust, but I…” he flushes, “I enjoy our conversations. I would like to know you more, given the opportunity.”

Ferdinand’s smile relaxes into one more genuine. “I would like that, too.” He brushes his thumb across Hubert’s cheek. “And my singing? It is part of me, how I express joy. I cannot simply stop, but I can try to be quieter. Would that work for you?” 

“As long as Miss Edelgard can get her sleep, I suppose it should be fine,” Hubert relents, the corner of his mouth turning up again. 

Ferdinand couldn’t get enough of that smile. He leans forward, pecking it gently with his lips. He guides Hubert’s hand away from his waist band to rest of his chest. “Perhaps we can pick back up on that kiss instead.”

-x-

Hubert types away in his keyboard, a dim glow from the sunrise and his computer the only light in the room. He checks his laptop clock: 4:15. He waits for the telltale melody, and right on time, Ferdinand’s voice echoes into the room. It’s much quieter this time, and based on the direction, behind him in the hall and coming closer. Ferdinand opens the door to Hubert’s office, flicking the light on. Hubert squints at the sudden brightness, but pretends to keep typing. 

“Good morning,” Ferdinand hums, wrapping his arms around Hubert from behind. He smells of sweat and fruity shampoo, his breath only slightly heavier for how long he ran to get here. “Are you ready to go?” He pulls Hubert’s chair back, revealing his simple running shirt and shorts. 

Hubert sighs, smile betraying his frustrated façade. He stands up to give Ferdinand a gentle, lingering kiss. 

“Ready when you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for your patience for this final chapter, I know it’s been a LONG time coming. I kept trying to figure out how to get sex to happen naturally in this chapter, but it kept not working, and eventually I got too in my head and stopped working on it;; 
> 
> I ended up going for the “theyre just not ready for that yet” option, I hope y’all understand! Hopefully next one shot will be plenty horny to make up for it!

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever fic I've written in 25 years on this earth. Of course its horny.
> 
> By extension, this is also my first time writing horny, so get ready for that.
> 
> Apologies in advance, my only experience writing fiction in years has been scripts for animation and comics, so if this comes off as too straight-forward, that's why, and if it's too flowery, it's probably me trying to overcompensate for not writing anything but scripts for years haha
> 
> Anyways, I made sure to fully script out the entire story with all its story beats before posting this first chapter, so it will definitely be finished to some extent or another, even if I just end up posting the bullet point version. Like a thirsty flower, I thrive off attention, so if you like this chapter please let me know so I know to keep going
> 
> Also, I know this isn't going to be the most in-character piece of fiction, but I hope you can find some joy in it the way I have, none the less.


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